Fall For Your Type
by Quiet REBel girl -with VoDKa
Summary: Mike has a definite type. So much of one, in fact, that he could potentially write a checklist of exactly what type of guy he always always ends up with. But Alex is different...right? SLASH


**Title:** Fall For Your Type (Same Mistakes)

**Pairing:** Alex Riley/Mike Mizanin (Hinted at Mike Mizanin/exes, side Justin Gabriel/John Cena)

**Rating:** T

**Summary:** Mike has a definite type. So much of one, in fact, that he could potentially write a checklist of exactly what type of guy he always always ends up with. But Alex is different...right?

**Disclaimer:** I don't own shit.

**Author's Note:** So I'm working on probably a quarter million fics all at once right now, because inspiration hits me for weird things at weird times, but the issue is, they're all pretty fucking lengthy fics. I broke my own rule with Landslide about posting things before they're finished, and that has definitely come back to bite me in the ass, so we're not doing that one again. In the meantime, hopefully random shit like this can keep hitting me when I'm listening to music. Haha. Based on Drake- Same Mistakes, often confused with the less heartfelt version featuring Jamie Foxx. Don't own that either. Enjoy!

**Warnings:** None.

Alex is drunk. No, scratch that. Alex is _trashed_. He passed drunk somewhere around four shots ago, screaming for the bartender to "line 'em up again!". Mike had just rolled his eyes and sipped his beer and waited for the younger to decide he's ready to go. Which, judging by the pace he's going out on the dance floor, won't be anytime soon. But, Mike's used to it. What can he say? Social butterflies are his bug lamp; they draw him in with their tantalizing light. He thinks it may be the way he's never been able to do that, completely let go in public, relax and cut loose and have a real, good time with huge groups of people. Either way, it somehow always leads to the same scene, Mike leaning against a bar in some random club, music pouding through his whole body, drinking just enough to keep a buzz and waiting for his boyfriend to decide to leave. He simply raises his hand, signals to the bartender for another beer.

"You look like you're having a blast."

Mike startles at the loud voice in his ear, whipping around with wide eyes to find the source. His face settles into a half glare when he notices who it is. Cena just smiles back, all big and dopey, raising a hand to flag down the bartender. Mike raises an eyebrow at the Superstar's order of two very much fruity cocktails. John blushes, nodding out at the sea of writhing bodies, where Justin Gabriel is laughing loudly as he dances with Heath Slater. The older shrugs, grabbing the drinks off the bar carefully (Mike has to fight back a laugh when the poor girl fucking _swoons_ at Cena's typical "thank you, random fan #42" wink he gives her when he slides her her tip).

"He hates the taste of whiskey. What'm I supposed to do?" John says, fond grin firmly in place. "Where's your boy?"

Mike turns to look at Alex when he motions to the younger. Currently, he's sandwiched between two equally attractive, petite girls, one blonde and one brunette. Their hands are all over him, grinding up against him as close as they can to the beat, and Alex is loving every minute. Mike just laughs. He can't help it; he's always liked them pretty. There's something to the feeling of being with the person in the room everyone wants, and knowing you're the only one who has them. It's always driven Mike wild, even if it does mean that occasionally he'll wind up like this, with someone else's hands trailing precariously close to territory that's his and his alone. He watches through a glare as Alex takes blondie's hand from his waistline and moves it swiftly back up to his bicep, shaking a finger at her. Mike smiles to himself (he stealthily ignores the expression he can _see_ on Cena's face in his peripheral, like he's fucking up again. He's not stupid, he knows he's seen the same scene a million times. But Alex is _different_, dammit. Even if it doesn't look that way right now).

Suddenly, Justin is bounding up to them, wide smile on his face. John barely manages to not spill the drinks as the younger half-plows into him, John raising his arms above his head just in time. He brings them down around his lover's back, letting Justin kiss him excitedly before turning him around and handing the cocktail to him. Justin downs half of it in one gulp, breathing heavily as he turns excited eyes back on John.

"What's taking so long? I want to dance with you!" he declares excitedly, his hips still moving to the music.

"I needed a breather. I'm not 30 anymore, y'know!" John jokes. Mike snorts a laugh next to him. Justin rolls his eyes, punching his boyfriend playfully in his chest. John does spill some of his drink this time, grimacing the slightest bit as the liquid lands on his designer jeans. The high flyer doesn't even seem to notice, taking John's arm in his free hand and dragging him back out towards the dance floor.

"You're _34_, John. Not 50. Now come on, I want to dance with you." Justin repeats with a smile.

John shrugs back at Mike once more, albeit discreetly, wide grin plastered across his face as he lets the younger whisk him away. Mike watches them dance for a moment, John's arms resting almost possessively around the high flyer, barely any space between them. He lets out a soft sigh, his eyes traveling back to his own lover. The blonde girl has apparently taken the hint and finally disappeared, but her brunette companion is still hard at work, ass grinding a little too tightly into Alex's (_his boyfriend_, Mike's mind provides angrily) crotch for Mike's liking. Mike pushes himself off the bar, abandoning his beer and making a beeline straight for the two. Alex turns a drunken smile on his lover, staring at him happily through hazy eyes as Mike very unceremoniously shoos the girl away, ignoring her angry look of disgust.

"Mikey!" Alex exclaims, draping his arms across Mike's shoulders and pulling him in extra close. Alex almost leans on him, never missing a single beat of the music with his hips, even as he rests his forehead heavily on Mike's. "I was wondering when you were gonna come join me."

Mike can taste every drop of liquor still on Alex's tongue when the younger kisses him almost sloppily (Mike has to say almost because even drunk, Alex isn't a bad kisser, what the fuck). The older feels his face heating up, only responding for the briefest of moments before pulling back. None of his lovers have ever really been able to understand his dislike of PDA, even if he is slightly more tolerant with Alex. It's not that he's ashamed. The opposite, in fact; he constantly finds himself showing Alex off, even if he doesn't mean to. It's a bad habit he's always had with his lovers. Then again, he likes nothing but the best, and nice things should be shown off, right? Mike just feels there are some parts of his relationships that should be kept private, and sloppy, drunken make out sessions definitely fall in that category. He stares into Alex's eyes, trying to get the younger to focus when he speaks again.

"Hey. Are you ready to go?" Mike asks, having to lean into Alex's space more to be heard over the music.

It takes Alex a moment, but then, he's shaking his head, looking almost upset.

"Not yet, babe! I haven't even gotten to dance with _you_ yet!" he objects, puppy dog pout in full bloom.

And Mike always has been a sucker for a pout, and no one on Earth rocks a kicked puppy look like Alex Riley, so the next thing Mike knows, he's nodding, moving his hips to the beat. Another hour later, and Alex is finally asking Mike to leave, although Mike has a feeling it has more to do with the fact that the younger is having difficulties standing up than with his actual desire to vacate the club. Mike just sighs, helping Alex out the door and into the car. He tells the driver to take them back to the hotel, letting Alex doze off with his head propped on Mike's shoulder. Mike leans his own head back against the seat, closing his eyes and relaxing against the all-too-familiar weight leaned against him. It's hardly the first time someone he's dating has passed out drunk on the way back to the room. Mike's just learned to deal with it.

When they finally make it to the large building, Mike carefully wakes the younger, hefting him out of the car and into the hotel. Alex presses soft kisses against Mike's neck in the elevator, leaning against the older for support. Mike almost doesn't even register it, so accustomed to the feeling, especially after a night at the club. It takes the older three tries to get the door open, Alex accidentally messing him up with his slouching. Eventually, though, Mike manages, and they make it into the room, Alex flopping immediately onto the bed. He does figure out how to get his own clothes off, at least, carelessly tossing them in a pile at the foot of the bed. Almost on auto-pilot, Mike gathers them, hanging them up with his own after he takes them off. Then, he's dropping into bed himself, pulling the covers up over himself and Alex automatically. Just another night with his boyfriend, he thinks. He's just closed his eyes when suddenly, strong arms are dragging him close, a large body winding its way around him from behind.

And this, Mike thinks, is where Alex really _is_ different from all the others, the younger finding his hand under the blankets and lacing their fingers together, bringing it up to press a soft kiss to the back of it. Mike smiles, turning around in his boyfriend's arms to kiss his lips instead. Alex kisses him much differently now than he had at the club. Now, it's slower, deeper, but still careful, as though Mike may fall apart under him at any moment. When he pulls back, he's got an almost forlorn look in his eyes. It catches Mike off-guard, makes his own mouth draw into a frown.

"I'm sorry I got so drunk." Alex whispers sadly, like he's ashamed of it.

Mike kisses him briefly again, smiling softly at him in return.

"It's fine," he says. "I'm used to it."

This makes Alex frown harder, pull Mike even closer.

"But you shouldn't be." Alex objects. "I'm sorry. I just get carried away sometimes. Start having too much fun, and think I can handle more than I can, and I just...I'm sorry. I'm an asshole."

Mike almost laughs, barely biting it back for his boyfriend's sake. He can't help it; Alex just looks so adorable, all kinds of apologetic.

"No, you're not, Alex. You like to have a good time, it's fine. I'm not upset." Mike clarifies, resting his free hand on Alex's cheek. The younger nuzzles into it, turning and pressing a kiss into the palm, and Mike's finally starting to get used to this, this automatic attraction Alex has to him, the constant displays of his feelings like this. He clears his throat a bit. "In fact, I think it's charming. I like that about you, Alex, really."

Alex's eyes are wide, and he stares hard at Mike, like he's trying really hard to focus in on his lover's face. The expression makes Mike smile just a little bit more

"You mean it? You're not upset?" the younger asks, voice small.

Mike shakes his head.

"Not upset at all."

"You promise?"

"I promise, Alex."

"Okay. Alright." Alex finally relents, kissing Mike deeply again before settling back into the sheets. Mike rolls back over, snuggling up against the younger again as close as he possibly can. Alex dips his head down immediately once Mike is settled himself, lips hovering right above the older's ear. "Hey. I love you, Mike."

And Mike can't help it, he feels a smile spread all across his face. It's his turn, now, to bring their still linked hands to his lips, running them over all the knuckles before placing his own kiss on Alex's hand. Alex tugs him closer.

"I love you, too, Alex." he whispers.

Alex presses his lips to Mike's neck one final time before finally resting his head on the pillow. Just as Mike is about to nod off, Alex's voice lights up one last time.

"And Mike? I'm sorry I'm so drunk."

Mike laughs to himself. Maybe Alex really _is_ different, he thinks.


End file.
